And then suddenly Ripley pitched forward. One moment he was rigid with fury. And the next he collapsed and rolled off of me. I couldn’t figure out what was happening.

I sat up in the middle of the road, trembling. I fought to catch my breath. My eyes focused on Ezra, lying in the mud, blood pouring from his face.

I thought for a moment it’d been Ezra who’d saved me from Ripley. I saw now I was wrong.

Ezra couldn’t have saved me from anyone.

It was Muncie.

Her muddied mask dangled around her neck. At her side, she held her backpack. The heavy backpack she’d used to smash over Ripley’s head.

Ripley groaned.

A few yards away, Ezra tried rising to his feet, but he couldn’t.

“Muncie, help me get Ezra to the house.”

Muncie never even hesitated.

Ezra rose out of the mud between us, leaning on us as intently as he had once leaned on Gramp’s canes.

The blood wouldn’t stop streaming from his face.

Suddenly Caleb bounded up, and Shep, barking wildly. Shep had never jumped the fence before. And then Gran came, and Mrs. Trent.

They moved Ezra into the back bedroom and tried to halt the bleeding. It wouldn’t stop.

“Bring me towels,” Gran ordered.

I raced to the linen closet, my hands trembling.

Gran took the towels and hustled me out of Ezra’s room. “You two girls get cleaned up,” she said. “I’ll take care of things in here. Muncie, don’t let your parents see you in those bloody clothes.”

Muncie led the way to the kitchen and opened the door, looking out toward the road. “I can’t see Ripley anymore,” she said. “Probably crawled back to his hole.”

“I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

“He’d been asking for it,” Muncie said. “For as long as I’ve lived here, he’s been asking for it.”

“But look what I did to Ezra.”

“Your grandmother will take care of Ezra.”

She was talking to me like nothing had ever come between us.

We went into the bathroom and washed the worst of the dirt and blood off our hands and faces. “Come upstairs,” I said. “I’ll get you something clean to wear.”

“Like your clothes really fit me.”

“All right. We’ll get something from Gran’s room then.”

We went into Gran’s bedroom. I hardly ever went in there. It was a simple room, nearly bare but for a double bed, a chest of drawers, a wardrobe, and a straight-back chair. No rug. A plain brown blanket on the bed. The only decoration was a sepia picture, of Gramp as a baby.

I didn’t know where to look for Gran’s clothes, but I felt funny going through her drawers. I tried the wardrobe instead. It smelled nice, cedar.